


The Five things Merritt didn’t know about Daniel and the one thing he made sure Daniel knew.

by VesperNexus



Series: The One with Friendship [1]
Category: Now You See Me (2013)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:13:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperNexus/pseuds/VesperNexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one wherein Merritt pays more attention and unravels the mystery that is J. Daniel Atlas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five things Merritt didn’t know about Daniel and the one thing he made sure Daniel knew.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Folks! 
> 
> Enjoy this 10k monster that my plot bunny refused to let me abandon. Apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies; one only has so much time in the day to edit these things.
> 
> Note: I've paraphrased a quote from John Green's wonderful "The Fault In Our Stars". Hint: it's "Slowly and then all at once."  
> Note: This isn't a slash story, though one will be coming relatively soon- just 'cause I'm a sucker for bromance.
> 
> Enjoy.

**The Five things Merritt didn’t know about Daniel and the one thing he made sure Daniel knew.**

**One.**

Merritt can honestly say he doesn't know much about his fellow horsemen. They’ve all had different, dramatic lives- they’ve all lived with different people through different things and were shaped through these experiences into the people they are today.

He knows some things; he knows Henley has a younger sister (Allison, he remembers) going through her second year in college to become a medic. He knows she sends her money from time to time to help with the fees, and visits downtown Brooklyn at least three times every year and always on the sixteenth of April. He knows Jack has a friend called Callum with wild blue hair and _man, these totally devious eyes that tell you he ain’t planning something good._ He knows Jack’s last name wasn’t always Wilder, he makes it a habit to call his parents and brother a time or two a week, and has a close connection to Florida. Henley’s favourite colour is forest green, _like Katniss (he joked once),_ and Jack’s leather jacket was a gift. Henley met a guy once, when she was younger, and _he was wonderful. Tall with these wonderful orbs and sly smirk, tousled hair that covers his eyes and skin so pale, Merritt._ (Merritt doesn’t mention how her eyes trail over to Daniel, who’s playing snap with Jack and being more carefree than he’s been in _ages.)_ He knows they planned on eloping when they were so young and naïve, and that he ( _John, he remembers. No last name? No.)_ disappeared after four months of “true love.” Henley hasn’t seen or heard from him since. Jack met a guy once too, and then a girl, and knew he wanted to do magic ever since he was a kid after finishing an entire year in the police academy. He associated magic with colour and cards with emotions, and _seriously, it’s like I can feel the deck talking to me. “Talking!”, crazy isn’t it?_ Merritt knows these things, because he listens and learns and observes, and yet- he doesn’t know a thing about Daniel.

Whenever they talk about or mention their “past lives”, they talk with trust and open up just a little bit more and become that much closer. It’s when they're huddled around a deck of Jack’s worn cards or the used, old classic version of the Monopoly board Daniel and Henley found at the Sunday Markets in Monte Carlo, that he tells them about his sisters growing up and his brother being a bastard and his mother calling him to remind him he’s still loved. It’s these moments when everyone shares and talks because they’re all _so stressed,_ and it’s so difficult to go on without confiding in a single soul after so much running and leaving and _abandoning._ And yet, Henley talks a little and Jack talks a little and so does he (revealing _so much)_ , and Daniel talks a mile and minute and doesn’t say anything at all.

He doesn’t explain the silver chain that he never takes off, doesn’t explain the torn copies of Charles Dickens’ novels in his room with writing on the corners far too messy to be his, doesn’t explain why he never calls anyone at any time or ever speaks of Christmas.

Merritt knows that it isn’t his place to wonder or ask (it really _isn’t)_ but he can’t help it. Almost three years after meeting the rest of the horsemen he knows _absolutely nothing important_ about the showman, and it’s driving him mad.

Usually he would just _deduce._ Listen to the words where Daniel’s voice wavers, when he diverts his eyes at certain discussions ( _family, always family)_ , catch a glimpse at the notes scrawled into the pages of worn novels. And yet, it’s never enough. He’s one of the first people Merritt hasn’t been able to read like an open book, and after so long, it’s unnerving him a little because he’s clever. Extremely clever and observant and the only reason Daniel can hide such details from him is because he’s as good at wearing a mask as Merritt is at ripping them off. And he thinks, with a weary sigh from time to time, how hard it is to expose someone who’s been hiding their entire lives.

So he takes note and extra care. Pays even closer attention (it’s _not_ obsessive, it _isn’t)._ And eventually, he notices a few things. Eventually, he starts to figure out Daniel Atlas.

The first thing he finds, surprises him. Totally and completely, it isn't something he suspects _at all._ And for Daniel to be able to hide something like that, well, it’s incredibly impressive, and a little bit frightening.

The first thing he finds about J. Daniel Atlas (is not what the J. stands for, though he has some theories) is that he can _draw._ And really well, too.

Not the hobby sort of drawings. Not cartoonist art, which he thinks Daniel might actually be able to do, but proper sketches- the type that have people going _wow, this is incredible,_ the type that have him catching his breath when he first finds them.

It happens something like this; it’s sunrise and the sun is climbing over the clouds slowly. It leaves and imprint of wonderful calming orange and Merritt is awake just in time to catch it. He’s standing on roof of their Italian hotel, a skyscraper with so many levels and windows so high they catch in the light and give the most amazing image. It doesn’t compare to this though, he thinks, standing figuratively amongst the clouds themselves with light orange and golden rays dying his skin.

He’s almost lost in the picturesque view though, when he notices something; movement. Light and quick and paired with the sound of lead scratching against paper and that’s when he sees him; _Daniel._ He’s awake too (an early-riser, another thing Merritt has noted) but he’s not looking at the scene. Rather, he’s concentrating on something cradled delicately in his lap- leather-bound, vintage (he’s seen it before- not on the inside though, _never_ on the inside), and a long thin pencil is delicately held in between lean pale fingers. Merritt takes a few steps forth  because Daniel still doesn’t realise he’s there, and peaks over the illusionist’s shoulder with care.

His breath catches faster than it did when he was looking at the sunset. It’s a drawing, and if Merritt hadn’t seen the pencil Daniel was holding he would have mistaken it for an photograph. The detail was _extraordinary,_ a women- in her forties, fifties, perhaps- with hair curling at the nape of her neck, a smile stretching her cheeks and brightening the image instantly, and dark, curious, mischievous, terribly _intelligent_ eyes he’s only seen on one person before.

It looks so realistic that Merritt doesn’t notice his slight hitch of breath until it’s too late.

Daniel is looking up from where he’s leaning against the wall, and the pencil immediately drops from his grasp to land with a light _thud_ against the image. When Merritt tears his eyes away he meets Daniel half way- Daniel who has something akin to panic climbing into his orbs and quickly pulling the leather cover of the book and shutting it on the image like he’s been caught red-handed doing something absolutely terrible.

“It’s beautiful.” Merritt says softly as the showman stands on his two feet, holding the book protectively by his side. It’s the only thing he can say at the moment, because the picture truly is- like something he would have seen in a museum somewhere.

Daniel shifts on himself subconsciously as if unsure how to reply- and Merritt is taken aback at his lack of comeback. He can already see the protective barriers being built in the other magician’s eyes in his moment of vulnerability and quickly corrects himself.

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to intrude. Just wanted to see the sunrise.” Daniel just nods hesitantly as if he doesn’t believe him, and is about to speak (to forget the entire incident) when Merritt interrupts, “Who was she? I mean, the women in the picture.”

He doesn’t know why he’s said it, because for some reason it suddenly seems ridiculously personal. But- he doesn’t know if it’s because it’s so early in the morning (too early for such defences) or if Daniel suddenly trusts him, but he tells him. Willingly.

He takes a moment and Merritt isn’t sure if he’s actually going to answer, but he does. He leans on the wall, standing, with the book and pencil carefully (protectively) tucked into his side, and turns his head. He isn’t looking at Merritt when he says,

“My mother.” Merritt knew there was some sort of familial connection but for a strange reason, Daniel saying it himself makes it a little surreal. He peels his eyes from the figure not watching him and lets his gaze rest on the glorious sunset as it reaches its peak.

“I didn’t know you could draw.” (So well). Daniel doesn’t reply, though Merritt knows he’s shrugging silently. “Did you- is it from a photograph?” Merritt takes a moment to ponder whether that question was too personal after a few seconds without an answer, before,

“No. Memory. I don’t have any photographs of her.”

Merritt’s eyes widen slightly because the image was honestly _incredible._ It takes him a moment to consider Daniel’s memory because the detail was unmatched, so elaborate he had almost mistaken it for a photograph. Then, he considered the showman’s next comment, _I don’t have any photographs of her._

He wondered what it could mean, a thousand thoughts floating through his head. He recalls how Jack showed them a picture of Callum and his parents and Henley of her sister at graduation, and wonders what it means that Daniel doesn’t have something like that for someone who is obviously so precious to him. He’s drawing so many (too many) conclusions and it has his mind reeling.

It’s as if Daniel takes pity on him and answers,

“She,” he hesitates and Merritt presses his palms against his jeans because this is the first elaborate, _important_ thing he’s ever found out about Daniel, “passed away. When I was younger.”

“I’m sorry.” Merritt offers, and Daniel just nods. He doesn’t say how, or who was involved, or how young he was, but it’s more than enough for Merritt who really doesn’t want to be reopening old wounds by saying the wrong thing.

Instead, they watch in silence as the sun rides up into the blue sky completely and hear the first loud yawn coming from Henley’s room. The clouds set and the birds flutter and it’s the perfect scenery as Jack peaks his head through the door and shouts _Good Morning!_ Their trance is broken and Daniel turns his head to meet the older man’s eyes a final time, with a light smile he doesn’t often see on the showman, before he turns and follows Jack inside.

Merritt takes a moment to compose himself after what he’s learnt today, and questions upon questions flood through his mind (where did he learn to draw so well? What happened to his mother? What about his father?) and leaves the roof with the solid image of Daniel’s drawing etched into his brain.

**Two.**

Nightmares. That’s the second thing he finds out.

It’s maybe, two, two and a half weeks since Merritt found out about Daniel’s mum and his artistic abilities that he discovers something that’s a little less happy.

He’s half asleep when he hears it. It almost three in the morning and from what he can tell, Henley and Jack are asleep. No, what he hears goes beyond Jack’s soft snores and Henley’s sleepy murmurs; rather, it’s something like a gasp.

He bolts awake (he’s always been easy to wake) and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. It takes him a moment to adjust before he hears the heavy breathing again in the room next door and he rushes out.

He wonders what’s wrong. They’ve just finished another show and everyone was so terribly exhausted- especially Daniel, whom he can now hear even clearer.

Merritt is at the showman’s door and his mind is reeling. What if he’s hurt? What if something’s wrong? What if…?

He doesn’t waste any more time though, and turns the knob on the door with clenched fingers and a question on his lips.

What he finds isn’t quiet what he expects.

Daniel is lying in his bed, long fingers clenched so tightly to the sheets tangled around him that his knuckles are white. He was pale- paler than usual, the healthy tint of his skin replaced by ash. There were circles around his eyes, deep and dark like bruises and stand out alarmingly in contrast to the rest of his features. Rattling breaths shake his figure and Merritt could see a drop of blood where he’d unconsciously bitten through his lip. All of this, yet his eyes were tightly shut and he was captive within the throes of sleep.

He was having a nightmare.

Merritt tried to remember what he’d done when his younger sisters had them. They’d wake up screaming and breathless and would rouse the entire house with them. Daniel though, Daniel was different. If Merritt was actually asleep and wouldn’t be able to wake up to a pin dropping a room over, he doesn’t think he would have heard him. (That’s something he’ll consider _later_.)

For now though, he rushes forward quickly and kneels by the magician’s bed, his hands and body flying through a routine he’d gone through countless times.

His fingers brushed across Daniel’s knuckles, his voice soft and firm all at once as he calls his name. He rubs soothing circles into the too pallid skin (the closest he’s ever been to the other Horsemen, his mind uselessly provides), and raises his voice just a touch higher.

It takes a moment, but it’s short and happens like sleep itself; _slowly and then all at once_. Daniel’s breathing slows by a hitch- almost inaudible, unnoticeable- (Merritt panics for a quarter of a second when the pulse beating beneath his fingers is so slow he can barely feel it), before there’s a gasp like that of someone who hadn’t taken  a breath in _years_ and Daniel’s waking.

He bolts upright like Merritt had earlier, and his hand slips from beneath the other’s and hold him up. His eyes are wild and unsure, uncertain and gazing around the room in search of answers. His breathing is still heavy and the beat of his heart is wild and uneven; so loud Merritt can hear it from where he’s leaning. Daniel’s hair is tousled and his entangled within the silky blankets, sleeves ridden up to his elbows and a flush to his cheeks.

All Merritt can think about is how young and vulnerable he looks in that moment.

It takes another few seconds and quietly saying his name before Daniel’s got his breathing under control (far shorter than Merritt would have thought. As if he’s had practice.) Soon enough, Merritt’s quiet and Daniel slumps against the headboard exhaustedly and runs one of his hands over his eyes and through his hair, pressing the fingers against his forehead as if to ward away a headache.

When he finally pulls his hand from his eyes he looks at Merritt with something the older man can’t name buried in his eyes. There’s silence for a short few seconds when neither say anything, Daniel licks the drop of blood from his bottom lip with a light wince, and Merritt notices the ache residing in his knees from kneeling against the hard ground for so long. He pulls himself up and stretches his legs, all the while Daniel’s eyes are on him.

He hears the crack in one of the joints and something tells him he’s getting just a little bit too old for this, but he ignores it. Instead, he leans against the wall not to far from Daniel’s bed and faces him, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, because he’s not going to impose himself, Daniel has actually become quite the close friend, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes Merritt has seen too often in the mirror and really does _not_ like.

There’s another moment before the card captor completely comprehends what he’s said, before he replies with something Merritt really doesn’t expect. (Surprise, _surprise.)_

He chuckles.

It’s light and short but it’s sharp and carries all the bitterness in the world. There’s a sort of hopeless devastation laced through it; the kind of laugh Merritt’s heard from people so used to being alone and independent and twice as old as Daniel. (It unnerves him, and his eyes unwillingly tell the showman as much.)

Merritt can see Daniel mentally shaking himself from the trance and he goes to rubs his eyes again, (the circles are still there, perhaps even more evident than before), before answering,

“No. No, it’s fine. I’m fine. But…” when Daniel _does_ look at him again, it’s tinged with a little strange curiosity, “thanks. For,” he takes a moment to find his words- even though Merritt knows exactly what he’s going to say-“waking me. From- you know.”

It’s expected, and yet Merritt still has to think before he answers.

“Sure. I mean, it’s fine…” he trails off, and there’s something- it isn’t an _awkward_ silence, and it isn’t really close, but it _is_ tense and Merritt doesn’t like it at all- “My, uh, younger sisters used to have ‘em. Helped them out once or twice. It’s no big deal.”

For a second he wonders if he’s said more than the card captor is comfortable with (because he sort of understands how sensitive the family subject is), but he relaxes when Daniel nods absentmindedly, fingers toying with the sheets and gaze filtering between Merritt and the wall behind him.

“Yeah- but, still. Thanks, again.” He’s nodding to himself again and Merritt knows he’s thinking about the horrors that plagued him in the dream and he knows the younger man really doesn’t want to go back there, so he offers again,

“You sure?” Daniel lifts his gaze questioningly, so Merritt clarifies. “That you don’t need to talk. My sisters always did- it… it helped. Getting back to sleep and getting over it. It might prove a little” he searches for the right word, “therapeutic.” And offers his most charming smile.

Daniel almost returns it, but it looks like it would be too exhausting. He thinks about it for a short time and Merritt silently holds his breath.

“It’s just, it’s nothing _big,_ but-” there’s something in Daniel’s tone, nerves- (he’s _nervous._ He’s never talked to _anyone_ about this- Merritt faintly thinks as he devotes all his attention to the illusionist.) Daniel’s never stumbled over his words- but this, this is different. “I-”

And then there’s a creak across the floor boards and the sink’s turning on two doors over with footsteps that could only be Henley’s. And just like that, the moment’s gone.

Daniel immediately shuts off again, and Merritt almost curses.

“You should go back to sleep. Big day tomorrow.” Daniel says and Merritt wants to bang his head against the wall behind him. Damn it.

There’s not much he can do now so he just nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

He leaves shortly after, leaves and knows Daniel won’t be getting any sleep tonight because the nightmares come back, they always _come back._ And he’s going to wake tomorrow all high spirits and sarcasm but Merritt won’t miss the circles underneath his eyes or the paleness of his skin. He won’t stop wondering about the nightmares and what Daniel (should have) was going to tell him. He leaves, and stores this fact under the enigma that is (J) Daniel Atlas and wonder’s what secrets (he _never_ expected) he will find out next.

**Three.**

He isn’t sure why  _this_ fact surprises him.

It’s obvious that not everyone grows up to become who they planned to be. Astronauts become teachers, teachers become medics, medics become journalists. In fact, it’s very rare that someone becomes _exactly_ who they knew they would be from a young age; hell, countless people don’t know what they want to do with their lives until their last year of school,  or afterwards. Merritt just forgot the same applied to the horsemen- he just couldn’t see _any of them_ as anything else than what they were- entertainers, magicians, _showmen_.

So yeah, he’s  a little surprised when he and Daniel are in the bar Jack’s told them about (neither of them fancy the concept too much, but Jack and Henley are out getting massages both he and Daniel refused, so…) and he finds out what Daniel wanted to be.

 _Almost became,_ is a more accurate term, he supposes. He can’t say it’s something he’s ever thought about and the thought leaves him reeling a little.

They're sitting near one of the booths at the back near the window and it’s just past nine. They’re relaxing, it’s a rare day off and it’s _wonderful,_ when it happens.

“ _James!?_ ” It’s a call Merritt doesn’t pay any attention to, but Daniel does. He immediately tenses and his calm aura disappears immediately, to be replaced by surprise. His eyes widen and he pales ever so slightly, and Merritt catches _all of it._

There are footsteps behind him and in front of Daniel, who he’s sitting across. He raises an obvious eye at the other horsemen who shrugs helplessly because _James? Really?_

The footsteps near quickly and Merritt twists his body around when there’s another call to see a guy in his twenties- taller than Daniel, and older by quite a few years. He’s got a head of jet black hair neatly combed and an excited smile which grows as he nears their table.

Merritt thinks he’s about to discover another fragment of Daniel’s (James’?) life. He feels something well up in his chest because _finally._

“James!” the guy says again when he’s right in front of their table, all six feet and a solid wall of muscle. He turns to Daniel with genuine happiness in his eyes and opens his arms.

Merritt thinks he’s insane. Daniel _does not_ do touching. Ever. Handshakes, yes, pats on the back, hugs, lingering touches, not so much.

Merritt’s shocked, however, when he _does._

Daniel stands and there’s a smile on his face Merritt knows is fake, but his friend (?) doesn’t seem to notice. He moves forward and allows himself to be enveloped in a bone crushing embrace and hides his discomfort like a true showman. Merritt can barely find his words.

“Kev.” _Short for Kevin,_ most probably, Merritt notes. He raises his eyebrow again at _James_ who ignores it, save for the light almost unnoticeable tapping of his fingers against the table as he sits and _Kev_ sits close beside him.

“Hey man!” _Kev_ greets him with a firm handshake across the table and Merritt’s fingers feel a little numb afterwards. “I’m Kevin, an old school friend o’ James.”

_School Friend?_

When Daniel doesn’t say anything, just continues tapping and licking his lips, he’s showing obvious discomfort at Merritt finding about _this much_ of his life- though obviously he cares too much about Kevin to tell him to get lost. So Merritt smiles,

“Merritt. Not a school friend of _James.”_ He stresses the name a little and across the table, Daniel glares at him for all he’s worth. He would have been intimidated if not for the excitement he was feeling talking to the solid wall of _school friend_ covered by a thick leather jacket and jeans.

Kevin laughs and nudges Daniel, who faintly smiles. Merritt observes.

“What are you doing here man? It’s been _ages.”_

Daniel shrugs, “Been going around, here and there. I didn’t know you were in town.” There’s something in his tone that Merritt can’t place, but apparently Kevin can. Something filters through his orbs and disappears so quickly he can’t catch it, but it doesn’t hinder him. There’s an almost silent conversation going on between the old friends before Merritt interrupts.

“So, school friends, huh? I haven’t heard about this.” He takes a sip of his drink and watches as _Kev_ laughs wholeheartedly.

“Seriously? This kid, man, he’s got lots to tell you.” Daniel laughed along a little, but it was obvious he really didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t tell Kevin to leave though, and he sharing in more physical contact with him than Merritt had ever seen him before.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

Daniel glares at him again,

“Like _nothing_. School wasn’t interesting.” He turned his gaze on Kevin who didn’t get the message and who Merritt was liking more and more by the minute.

He nudges Daniel,

“Come on James, everything that happens in Harvard is interesting-”

_Harvard?_

Merritt forces himself to swallow the drink before,

“You went to _Harvard?_ ” There’s incredulousness in his tone because _this_ was not something he ever expected (then again, when it came to Daniel- _James-_ when was it ever?)

Daniel rolls his eyes and takes a breath before answering him,

“Only for a few years- it wasn’t anything-” but he’s interrupted, and suddenly Merritt is hanging onto _Kev’s_ every word.

“ _Wasn’t anything?”_ It’s apparently his turn to be incredulous as Daniel’s fingers drum a little faster against the table. Merritt notices. Kevin’s hand is on one of Daniel’s lean shoulders and his attention is back to Merritt- “This _kid-_ ” he stresses, “got into Harvard on a full scholarship. Skipped, what was it, two- three years?” He turns his attention back to Daniel, “Hell’a lawyer you would’ve made, man.”

_Lawyer. Harvard. Skipped two- three years. Christ._

He feels like this is an entirely new person- like the Daniel he’s known for three years isn’t the one everyone else knows- isn’t…

Kevin’s still going, and Merritt tunes back in.

“-Never did tell me why you just up and _left._ Not even a phone call man. You had a full course goin’, then you’re just _gone…_ ” Daniel’s paling a little more, looking as if he’s recalling an unpleasant memory which Merritt figured he probably was. His fingers tightened at the edge of the table and he forced another (realistic) smile.

“I called you afterwards, Kevin. I told you, just a few family things I had to sort out.” Daniel spoke for the first time in a while, and Kevin just shook his head like he was hoping for a better explanation.

He’s about to say something else when there’s a loud _ring_ and he turns to his pocket, stuffing his hand in and pulling out his phone. He sticks it to his ear and Daniel turns away- away from Kevin and faces the window, eyes unreadable. Kevin nods to the person on the other side who can’t see him and mumbles a few words here and there before turning his phone off and shaking his head.

“Gotta run- gotta another gig at Charlie’s-” he turns to Daniel who’s looking at him now, and stands. “You remember Charlie’s right? We used to-” he trails off though, as if he’s remembered something else and clears his throat. “Just,” he pauses, “take care of yourself James.” He looks at Daniel up and down and Merritt can tell he notices the paleness and the dark smudges under Daniel’s eyes.

The showman nods back and smiles- a _real smile._  “You too, Kev.” Kevin smiles to him, and then to Merritt, before leaving- his footsteps dancing in time with Daniel’s breaths.

There’s an odd sort of silence once the door closes behind Kevin, despite the bar now filled with patrons. Daniel (James?) takes a small sip off his drink before Merritt says,

“Harvard, huh?”

Daniel looks vaguely uncomfortable again before he answers,

“It was a long time ago.” Merritt knows though, it couldn’t have been more than five years ago. Daniel is young- and clever, and skipped two (three) years into Harvard. It wasn’t a long time ago and they both know it.

“Why?” Daniel looks up with a question in his eyes at the odd inquiry, so Merritt elaborates. “Why didn’t you finish?”

Daniel takes another sip. He doesn’t have to tell Merritt this, he really doesn’t. And yet...

“I couldn’t…” he pauses, and starts again, “my sister-” Merritt doesn’t say anything, “was sick. A lot, fevers, colds, and sometimes it got really bad-” he shakes himself from a memory. “She couldn’t take care of herself. School took up too much time, and it didn’t pay the bills.”

There’s a longing in his eyes, and Merritt knows Daniel has given up much and more for this. Instead he asks,

“What about your dad?” Daniel’s eyes immediately darken, and Merritt knows he’s treading dangerous waters.

“He wasn’t around.” He says a little bitterly, and Merritt knows better than to keep going.

“You did magic to help your sister. You didn’t always…”

Daniel shakes his head. “No. It was a hobby, sure, but it wasn’t like law. It wasn’t what I wanted back then.”

Merritt nods.

“And your sister? Where is she now?”

Daniel meets his eyes and there’s something he can’t distinguish lurking in those dark whiskey grey orbs too mature for someone so young.

“I visit her from time to time.”

Merritt’s about to ask him about it more- about to question him because there are so _many_ answers he wants- needs- but then Jack and Henley are bursting through the door and surprising them and Daniel (not James) puts on another mask and becomes an entirely different person.

The four crowd around the table and talk about _nothing personal_ and Daniel doesn’t bring up Kevin so neither does he. They talk until the night turns to dusk and leave, and all the while Daniel avoids his eye and he’s left with so many unanswered question about broken families, and sisters, and fathers, and Harvard, and law.

And no one to answer them.

**Four.**

The next thing Merritt finds out about Daniel is about a month later and not quite as surprising.

Everyone has fears, phobias, things that absolutely terrify them- leave them breathless. Some people are afraid of spider, snakes, some people can’t form connections in fear they’ll be abandoned, some people fear loss of control with a dizzying intensity.

It’s normal, he knows. It happens to countless people, and he honestly shouldn’t be surprised Daniel is one of them. After all, with the amount of skeletons in his closet, nothing should really surprise him anymore.

Daniel and he haven’t talked about Kevin, or nightmares, or art. They’re subjects the showman avoids like the plague, as if a fear plagues him within- the fear of revealing far too much, enough to be seriously hurt.

But that isn’t the fear Merritt finds out about.

It happens on a Tuesday. They’re in England this time and he and Daniel are taking the elevator down to the lobby to meet with Henley and Jack, who for the first time, awoke earlier.

They’re on the elevator with an older woman; seventies, short hair, crescent spectacles, fur coat, coming down from the fifty-sixth floor. They’re leant back against the back metal wall and nod to her as she departs two floors under, and wait as the doors shut sharply and they continue down.

It’s eight in the morning and they have countless hours of preparation ahead of them. It isn’t going to be a show like their usual; bigger stage, bigger crowd, bigger danger. It’s thrilling, terribly so. It’s the sort of danger their addicted to- knives and axes and flesh eating fish- it’s like something out of a circus. It’s new and different and _absolutely exhausting._

He looks over at Daniel in his blazer and trousers and bed-mussed hair (that’s growing, longer, longer, _longer_ ) and considers all he’s learnt, and the fact that he still knows and understands the least about him. He knows facts, but he doesn’t completely comprehend their role in his life.

They’ve become more comfortable with one another now; there are late night games of snap and go fish and they go shopping and ice-skating and movies in their spare time. They aren’t acquaintances anymore, they are proper friends, and that’s what surprises him most of all.

He and Daniel are such different people, and yet they are able to find _common-ground._ It’s messy and tiring and a little bit dysfunctional, but it wo-

_Slam!_

The noise is loud and unpleasant and reverberates throughout the elevator. The metal container vibrants dangerously with the unexpected and invisible force and rattles in its place, no longer moving. He sees Daniel tremble with the force of the stop and reaches a hand to ground him, helping him catch his balance. The showman nods to him in thanks, before breaking his gaze and looking at the no longer moving elevator.

The elevator was… broken?

They were stuck.

Indefinitely, it seemed, as Merritt quickly marched forth once the shaking had ceased to bang on the doors.

“Hello!? _Hello!?”_ He yelled out, fist slamming against the metal in an attempt to call for attention or force the doors open. “Hey! Anyone!” When no one replied, and the doors remained sealed shut, he turned back to Daniel.

“Looks like we’re stuck.” He proclaimed obviously with false cheerfulness. Daniel let out an annoyed sigh though there was something guarded in his eyes, something he didn’t want to reveal. He tried pressing a few buttons on the elevator to see if it would have any effect, but there was nothing.

Rather, the lights above began to flash and pulse unevenly. They flickered several times before pausing, only to be considerably less bright than before- however, they still worked. _Thank the lord for small mercies._

“Damn it.” The showman curses with a role of his eyes. Merritt couldn’t agree more; this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. They’re a little behind schedule as it is, and _this,_ well this they really _didn’t_ need. Daniel’s shaking his head and reaching into one of his trouser pockets for his phone when, “ _god damn it._ ”

The phone, it seems, was not there.

Merritt shakes his head and leans against the wall, at least the elevator was shaking anymore,

“Must’ve left it upstairs. Wait- pretty sure I’ve got mine.” Daniel just nods and leans in beside him, closing his eyes for a second as the lights flicker once more. His orbs following the flashing and Merritt doesn’t fail to notice as he weaves his hands into his pockets almost _nervously._

He’s pulling out his own mobile, but the screen is dark. It takes him a moment of randomly clicking the power button and several curses to remember; Jack borrowed his charger the night before because he couldn’t find his. His phone was dead, and by the bothered gleam in Daniel’s eyes, they both knew it.

“Well if this isn’t the worst luck _ever._ ” He says helplessly. The illusionist beside him rolls his eyes again and move forward to try the doors once more. “That ain’t gonna help, Danny-boy.” He says jokingly, and there’s another annoyed sigh from the front. Daniel moves back beside him and replies.

“What now?” There’s something in his tone, something that spirals just a little past discomfort. Merritt doesn’t point it out. Instead, he his legs fold beneath him and he takes a seat on the elevator floor. Daniel looks down at home, eyebrows raised as if he’s insane. “What are you doing?” He asks slowly, as if he isn’t sure he wants the answer.

Merritt laughs quietly, “I’ve seen the movies, Daniel, I know the only thing we can do in this situation is wait. And I don’t know about you, but I’m really digging this carpet.” He smirks. Daniel takes another uncertain (dread-filled?) look at the flickering lights above, before he takes a breath and gracefully sits himself beside the hypnotist.

He tilts his head back a little and his fingers press tightly against the denim as the flickering continues, the intervals between light and darkness becoming longer. Merritt notes this, and feels like he knows where this is going.

“They’ll find us and get us out, you know that right?” He says a little uncertainly, and Daniel turns to him sharply, his hands going still. His voice is soft, though, when he says,

“I know. I’m just…” there’s a light moment of silence, “not a massive fan of darkness and closed spaces.”

Merritt just nods with a light, reassuring smile. There’s more silence when neither of them say anything, and the lights continue to flash until-

There’s a sharp intake of breath from beside him as they are launched into total darkness. Merritt’s eyebrows furrow and there’s an uneasy feeling in his chest. Another soft curse escapes his lips and is accompanied by total silence.

It’s maybe a minute or two, and Merritt hears light shuffling as Daniel bends his legs at the knee and rests his arms on them. From here he can hardly see the other showman, but this is enough to tell him something is wrong. He takes it upon himself to do what he does best (second-best), _distract._

Because if it’s one thing he knows Daniel can’t handle, it’s showing weakness. And this, this is most definitely _not_ weakness, but he’ll distract the younger man nonetheless.

“Why?” He asks. Daniel tilts his head, and though he can’t quite see him, Merritt knows he asking, _why what?_ So he clarifies. “Why don’t you like small spaces and darkness?”

It’s a stupid thing to ask, Merritt thinks, but it’s better than nothing. If he can get Daniel to talk about _anything_ besides where they are right now, well, it might just be for the best.  Daniel takes a moment.

“It’s just, been _there._ ” Merritt can faintly see light hand motions. “Ever since I was a kid, always lived in darkness.” Merritt raises an eyebrow he isn’t sure Daniel can see, “Not always literally, but there was this once when I was-” He pauses, as if remembering, “five years old. I was locked in this closet for nine, ten? Hours. It just sort of… stuck.”

Merritt doesn’t say anything for a short while, until he can find his voice.

“Why were you in a closet for ten hours?” His tone is sharper than he’d realised, and he silently scolded himself, but he can’t help it. He hopes it was an accident.

Daniel doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. Merritt notices his knees are now locked in together a little bit tighter, and there’s the slightest tremble (he doesn’t know _how_ he caught it) in his fingertips. When he does speak, he doesn’t answer Merritt’s question.

“I never did like small spaces, even before that. My mother had the same thing; always said it was like the walls were closing in, and it would get so hard to breathe. It’s been a while since…” he trails off, and the hypnotists knows he’s said more than he meant to. He lets it go, instead focusing on Daniel’s breaths as they get shorter and shorter.

“She sounds like a wonderful woman- your mum.” Merritt can see him faintly smiling, as if remembering a good memory.

“Yeah- she was.” There nervous tapping is back again and Daniel is pressed even tighter against the metal wall behind him. He’s blinking owlishly and his breathing is becoming a little more uneven. Merritt thinks on his feet.

“How did she-” he never _was_ good at thinking _sensitively_ on his feet. But at least it’s something. “If you don’t mind my asking- I mean.” He adds hastily, as if to make his intrusion better.

Daniel pauses, and Merritt’s almost sure he isn’t going to answer, when-

“Car crash. When I was eleven.”

Merritt takes a moment, and nods silently.

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else to say for the moment, but Merritt has to find _something._ “What about your father?”

He can see Daniel’s eyes darkening (just like the time he mentioned the man.) He certainly doesn’t expect what he hears though.

“He got out fine.” Merritt takes a breath, and there’s a feint movement when Daniel’s fingers are subconsciously rubbing over that one spot on his right wrist that’s always covered. He’s staring up ahead, and there’s something almost (not) hidden by the shadows reflected in his eyes. And suddenly, Merritt knows.

“You were there.” It barely escapes him. _Christ._ This isn’t at all how he imagined it. Daniel should have been _spoilt,_ should have had a wonderful childhood- but this, this isn’t…

“I was.” There’s a light gleam of silver as the pale wrist is reveal ever so slightly, and Merritt can see the chain Daniel never takes off. His eyes are lightly shut though, and he’s trying to control his breathing when it feels like everything’s getting so much darker.

“The chain- that’s your mothers.”

Daniel faintly nods.

“My sister and I saved up for it when I was nine and got it for her birthday. It’s how I remember them.”

There’s silence.

Merritt doesn’t know what to say. He can’t imagine this; Daniel’s mother _and_ sister _gone._ He didn’t think, he didn’t- _Jesus Christ._

He’s going to say something- anything- because this isn’t how it was supposed to go, it _isn’t. Not-_

“You said you visit her from time to time, your sister.”

“I do. She’s right next to mum.”

There’s so much to say and not enough words. Nothing in the world can make this okay, nothing at _all._ How does he even reply to that? It isn’t how this was supposed to be. It isn’t- (isn’t, isn’t, _isn’t._ )

He’s going to say something, anything, because their talk delayed it, but it’s like the darkness has finally gotten to Daniel. Even from across here Merritt can see the skin that’s far too pale and hear the breathing far too ragged, and then-

The lights are flickering on again, and staying on. The relief is so obvious and palpable in Daniel’s eyes that it’s infectious, and Merritt feels so glad. He lets out such a thankful sigh and stands uncertainly on shaky legs. Merritt follows quickly in suit, and catches the illusionist at the elbow to steady him once more.

Daniel shoots him a look, though it’s a look of understanding, trust, belief. He’s silently asking Merritt to let the showman trust him, and Merritt’s smiling a little back.

And then they’re going down, and they don’t say anything, and for the next twenty floors Daniel builds up his defences again and Merritt conceals all his emotions as he ponders on everything he’s discovered.

Everything he knows that he doesn’t think he wanted to, even though he’s glad for it.

The elevator doors open once more and Daniel’s practically jumping out and taking a deep breath, and that’s another fear Merritt won’t reveal.

**Five.**

They’re on a beach on the sunny coasts of Florida when he gets the call.

Jack is off somewhere, visiting his friend Callum, Merritt suspects. Henley’s taking part in some elaborate game of volleyball less than a mile away and Merritt’s feet are up under one of those large rainbow umbrella’s he’s only ever seen in the movies. He’s sipping ice-tea and adjusting his straw hat (which matches wonderfully with his Hawaiian shirt.) Daniel threatened to ditch him because of his _ridiculous_ pineapple board-shorts but caved when Merritt said he’d shout lunch.

So he’s sitting down, legs up, sand in his hair- _(what_ hair? Daniel joked), and his fellow showman is ordering them refills from the bar a few metres away.

He’s dressed (almost) casually for once. No blazer, or sweater for this seventy-five degree heat. He _is_ in a button-up though, and jeans (not trousers) and his shiny shoes have been ditched for converse. It’s the most carefree Merritt’s ever seen him, and frankly, it’s a welcome change. Merritt’s pondering this, this sudden regard he has for Daniel, and thinks that maybe it’s because they’ve become closer.

He’s found out things about him, in the past few months. Terribly tragic, unexpected things- talents, fears, about his past life- and it’s done him quite well. It’s when he thinks he’s solving the enigma of _James_ Daniel Atlas- with no mother or sister, a _dislike_ of closed, dark spaces, incredible artistic skills (which _no one_ knows about, except him- it seems), when he finds out about his _father._

Daniel’s never said anything about him, besides mentioning him in passing once or twice. He’s always got that strange dark look in his eyes when he does though, the one Merritt isn’t able to yet understand because his dad was a cop who was shot in a heist when Merritt was sixteen, and he absolutely loved the man. He’d told Daniel as much once, over a shot of whiskey (he didn’t know the younger man could drink so well- he knows he wants to know more about how _that_ happened), and all he’d gotten was a soft smile tinged with understanding. Merritt hasn’t mentioned it since.

So it’s when Daniel’s phone he’d left on the edge of the table in his haste for refills, vibrates silently, does he find out.

He raises an eyebrow at the glowing screen, and turns to look up Daniel (to ask if he should answer), only to see the showman’s back turned to him. He licks his lips and places his empty glass on the table, reaching over. It was probably Jack or something, he considers.

When the mobile’s cradled carefully in his hands, he gets a better look. The caller ID is set on private, and Merritt knows if he doesn’t answer it’ll shut. So, he does- in hopes he’ll take a message or just tell the caller to wait ‘a sec.

When he accepts the call, he’s greeted with something else he doesn’t expect.

“ _Mr James Atlas?_ ” He’s about to correct the man with the firm voice on the other side when, “ _This is Rikers Island Correction Facility in Queens, Ney York. You’re requested to receive a call from one Thomas D. Atlas. If you accept, you will be redirected shortly. If you reject, this phone call will be terminated immediately. Do you wish to accept the call?_ ”

Merritt’s mind is gone a little haywire. His voice is somewhere down his throat and he knows his brows are furrowed ridiculously, but he can’t quite help it. _Rikers?_ Rikers Island Correctional Facility- one of the most infamous prisons in America- _that_ Rikers? _Thomas D. (Daniel,_ his mind supplies) _Atlas._ It could be anyone, Merritt tells himself. An uncle or cousin, or a distant relative. And yet, something tells him it isn’t.

He’s so lost in thought he barely hears it when Daniel sets the drink down and takes his seat opposite him, lifting an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“ _Mr Atlas? Are you there, Mr Atlas?_ ”

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts the phone from his ear and stretches it over the table, turning it over to Daniel. Lean fingers grasp the phone and he presses it to his ear, before freezing.

His reaction is instantaneous. The healthy tinge to his skin is replaced by a dangerously ash pallor, his finger tighten a slight bit more against the glass and metal, and something lurks deep in his eyes as the widen almost unnoticeably.

He clears his throat before replying,

“I’m here.” He says, voice firm and just a little shaken. He leans his elbows on the wooden table and locks his gaze on a spot just by the coaster. He runs his long fingers through his even longer hair as the man (officer) on the other end repeats the question.

“No.” He says suddenly and with an immediate finality. “No, I’d rather not. Thank you.” He shut his phone off and it slips through his fingers to land with a soft _thud_ on the table by the glasses with the bright umbrellas and tea.

There’s silence when Daniel doesn’t say anything but digs his fingers into his eyes as if rubbing away an oncoming headache. He takes a breath to settle himself, before letting on hand drop and running another through his tousled hair again, agitation seeping into his bones.

Merritt wants to say something, anything, but doesn’t. He gives Daniel time to collect himself and watches in silence as the illusionist braces himself and the vulnerability is all gone, to be replaced by his defences once more. He mentally shakes himself out of the stupor, and suddenly, if it weren’t for the phone lying incriminatingly beside him, it would have been as if nothing had happened.

“Daniel?” He says cautiously, unsure as how to tread. His friend just shakes his head slightly. He lifts his chin and Merritt is surprised to see a bitter smile dancing on his lips.

“Well, no one ever said he was father of the year.”

And that ends their discussion for the time being, neither saying anything as the waitress comes over to check _if everything’s alright, dears,_ and Henley’s bouncing back to them wrapped in a towel with Jack running at her heels (back from his trip) telling them to join in.

It’s only a few hours later, after the mirth and carelessness had completely disappeared from Daniel’s eyes, does he find time to talk to him again.

Daniel’s on the roof of their Florida forty-story hotel (like the first time), with his elbows perched on the concrete fence and the moon casting shadows across his pale skin. He’s in another sweater and isn’t wearing converse anymore, and Merritt’s just a little less confident than he was earlier.

It doesn’t matter though. He makes himself take those few steps forward to lean beside Daniel. His eyes travel down the impossible height to the pool and laughter below, before evening his gaze and taking a look at the younger man.

The showman’s eyes are just that much darker, and the lines around his mouth set his lips in a frown. He looks lost, confused, and just a bit angry.

“Father of the year, huh?” He says, because this is become some kind of ritual and he knows that Daniel _trusts_ him, but he won’t tell him if he doesn’t ask.

“Yeah.”

There’s silence again, though it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It might even been filled with a touch of companionship and understanding, though he doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he waits.

Turns out he doesn’t have to wait _long._

“Do you think I should?” The rest of the question is unsaid, silent, yet still present and ever so obvious. It is unsaid and yet it is the loudest thing ringing in Merritt’s head at the moment. He takes a second to consider,

“Answer his call?” He clarifies, though he already knows. Daniel nods. “Do you?”

He doesn’t say anything, and Merritt finally takes notice of the phone twirling in Daniel’s hands held over the roof. If he didn’t know Daniel, or how sure those talented hands were, he might have been afraid the magician would drop the device.

“I don’t owe him anything.” He says, and oddly enough, Merritt completely understands. After his brother had stolen all his money and gambled it away, it was difficult to forgive him and offer him a place on the couch. He thinks, though, that this might be a little bit more serious.

“He owes you, though.” They both know it’s true, and Merritt turns to Daniel again to meet those dark eyes, “He owes you something he hasn’t given you yet, and you need it. You don’t want to hear what he has to say, but you need to. You know that as well as he does.”

Daniel’s unreadable. He doesn’t reply for a few given seconds before nodding, silently.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Despite himself, Merritt smiles. He smiles and Daniel does too, a little. It’s a little sad, and a little unsure, but it’s completely genuine and for now that’s enough.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He smiles again and pats the showman on the back lightly (because he looks like he could crumble at any given moment, and he _needs_ this) “You should…” he motions to the phone in his hands. Daniels just nods again,

“I should.”

Merritt leaves Daniel then, with the phone pressed to his ear and his fingers anxiously clutching at the fence, asking to speak to prisoner 5-11-96. He leaves through the door of the roof with the light of the moon dancing on his skin, and the thoughts of whether what he did was right dancing in his mind.

He finds out, the morning after when he wakes up and Daniel’s voice is echoing through the suite and laughing with Henley, that he _did_ do the right thing. He’s seated on the table and there’s a smile on his face and a lightness in his eyes, and gratitude when he looks at Merritt. Henley’s talking to Jack and packing her bags and no one’s paying attention to them, when Daniel leans in and says,

“Thank you.”

He says nothing else and gets up to pack his things with the others, and Merritt feels a warmth in his chest he hadn’t in a long, _long_ time.

**And One.**

It’s about two weeks later; they’re in New York, when it happens.

It’s the day before the show when Daniel tells them he’ll be gone a few hours, and the first thing Merritt thinks about it how much the taxi fare would cost from here to Queens.

He knows immediately where his friend’s going, and tells him.

“I’m coming with you.” He says, jogging to catch up with Daniel. It’s about eight in the morning, visiting hours start at ten-thirty. He’s done his research.

Daniel raises an eyebrow and digs his gloved hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders his coat closed just that much more against the angry winter winds. He’s tilting his head and there’s curiosity and something else Merritt can’t decipher in the look. Before he has a chance to say anything though, the hypnotist interrupts,

“You’re not going alone, Daniel.” His voice is firm and he’s serious. Daniel might think he has to do this by himself, but Merritt knows for a fact he shouldn’t. There’s no way Merritt’s going to let him go alone after everything the illusionist has told him. He gave him privacy and told him he should take the call- far more than Daniel’s father deserved, but this would be going too far. He let him speak to the lion from behind the bars alone, but there was no way he was going to let him in the lion’s den without anyone with him.

“You’re paying half.” Daniel says- motioning to the taxi stand with a light mirth in his eyes, trying to lighten the situation. Merritt just smiles, and sits through two hours of traffic and pedestrians on their way to Rikers.

He pays his half as they come to halt in front of the intimidating gates of the correctional facility. Daniel’s movements are more tense and frozen now, but he doesn’t back out, doesn’t stop or tell the driver to turn around.

They go through the standard procedure and Merritt has to hand over his nail clipper. They’re led inside to a metal door and the guard tells them _Thomas Atlas is inside. You will be notified when the visitation time has come to an end._ They nod, and suddenly, they’re inside.

Daniel hasn’t asked him to leave or wait outside and he’s glad. He would have, at his friend’s request, but he knows Daniel needs someone right now. He’s opening up that closet and skeletons are falling out one by one, and there has to be someone to make sure he doesn’t become one of them; a secret hidden behind a veil of more things left unsaid.

So they take a step through the door, and Daniel pauses.

There’s a metal table in the centre of the room, and three chairs. Two on their side, and another on the opposite.

And seated on it, is Daniel’s father.

Merritt doesn’t really know what he imagined, but he’s sure this man is close enough. His hair is short and spiked and somehow falls a little over his eyes. His features are sharp- sharper than Daniel’s, and his orbs are unlike his son’s. They’re a deep brown, whereas Daniel’s are raven, onyx, the poetic sort of black he’d always read about in books.

The only similarity about them is their paleness- ash skin, and the way they held themselves. Shoulders straight, chin up, and unreadable expressions. There’s silence, and the man- Thomas, leans over with fingers long and lean just like Daniel’s, and he says- in a voice deep and firm,

“James.” There’s a pause, and Merritt thinks the tension in the air is so thick he would choke if he took a breath too deep. One beat, two, three-

“It’s Daniel.”

And then they’re taking their seats, cold and hard and metal, and Thomas’s gaze doesn’t divert from Daniels, doesn’t even move to consider or glance at Merritt (he’s completely fine with this). Merritt has an eye on him and an eye on Daniel, who’s seated with his back straight just like his father, and his hands are pressed- palm down- onto the cold grey metal. He doesn’t say a thing more, so neither does the hypnotist.

Inevitably, as if an entire silent conversation has taken place between father and son (maybe it had), Thomas breaks the quiet with a chuckle light and bitter and so like and different from Daniel’s all at once. His son tenses, though doesn’t move a muscle.

“That _is_ what you call yourself now, isn’t it?” The words are mocking, but his tone isn’t. It’s serious and certain and a little bit sad so Merritt keeps his calm and quiet.

“It _is_ my name.” Daniel replies, and Merritt thinks; two can play at this game. Daniel’s gaze is still locked with his fathers and Merritt’s feeling the tension increase by the minute, so palpable he swears he could almost taste it.

Thomas just nods. He leans back slightly and crosses his arms over his chest- not defensively, rather- almost threateningly. Daniel either doesn’t notice (Merritt seriously doubts this) or he’s simply unaffected. The man locks his gaze onto his son with such intensity; as if he’s attempting so unravel the mystery that is (James) Daniel Atlas with a single look. Merritt almost takes pity on him and tells him it isn’t going to work, _trust me, I’ve tried._ And yet, he maintains his silence.

“You’ve grown.” The words are a quiet declaration, and Merritt- for all his powers of deduction, can barely sense a hint of sadness (and grief?) laced within. He isn’t sure how Daniel will reply.

“That _is_ what tends to happen after five years.” There isn’t sarcasm in his voice, though the words imply it. Another chuckle.

“Why today?” The man asks instead, and Merritt finds himself wondering the exact same thing.

“You asked.” Comes the easy reply. But his father doesn’t back down. Instead,

“I’ve asked you before. You didn’t come then. Why today?”

“Why did you ask?”

Merritt thinks this is something that runs in the family; answering questions by asking more questions. He waits.

Thomas shakes his head slightly, as if the answer is that obvious.

“I’ll always ask- I always have and I always will. You know that.” In hope you’ll come, he leaves unsaid. Daniel notices this too, though doesn’t reply. “So, you didn’t answer my question- why today? Why after all this time?”

What made you change your mind?

There’s a long pause that reminds Merritt of his own conversation with Daniel in the elevator, when he learnt about all the things his father has done, and the _closet._ The answer he knows but won’t accept.

Daniel almost smiles.

“You know. Even you know how to read a calendar, Dad.” There- _that word._ It catches Merritt and Thomas’s attention but it leaves Daniel unfazed. Merritt’s heart’s beating far too quickly to be normal, yet the showman seems completely relaxed if not a touch tense. He continues, “Happy birthday.”

It’s bitter and sweet all at once and Merritt doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry and neither does Daniel’s father. There’s a look on his face, like he was remembering something ( _or someone_ ) painfully. Like he’s looking at mirror or a photograph or a _ghost._

He shakes his head.

“You’re just like her, you know.” Merritt doesn’t know whether he’s talking about the mother or the sister but apparently Daniel does, and he doesn’t take kindly to the comparison.

“Because you would know.” Now, _that’s_ sarcasm if Merritt’s ever heard it. It’s the kind that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, like regret and resentment and _love_ all at once, and he really doesn’t know how to explain it.

Daniel’s father is surprised for a moment, though the magician knows he shouldn’t be. Not after what Daniel’s told Merritt about him. No one replies, and Thomas looks like someone physically hurt him or rubbed salt on a wound too fresh. “Why am I here, dad?”

Now _there’s_ a good question.

Thomas leans back another inch,

“I heard you were in town. After we talked the other night-” Merritt remembers and Daniel licks his lips, “I thought, for some reason, I might be able to convince you. I just- needed to see you, it’s been a while.” Daniel doesn’t say anything. “After your mother- James, you have to understand-” there it is, _desperation,_ “I tried to be there for you and your sister- I did my best-”

Daniel lets out a little, odd smile and says,

“You drank yourself under the table the best of nights.” There’s something in Daniel’s voice and Merritt knows he _has_ to say this, he needs to let a little weight of this ever-so heavy burden _go._ “I had to leave school, dad, I had to give up _everything I ever wanted_ to fix your mistakes. Do you know what that was _like_?”

Merritt’s breathing is getting heavier and he suddenly feels like he's intruding. There’s a fire in Daniel’s eyes and it’s blazing, and he’s _letting go._

“I’m sorry.” It’s all Thomas has to say. Daniel doesn’t seem to care very much though.

“You weren’t even there when Emily-” It’s the first name Merritt hears and he commits it to memory. Daniel’s sister. “Where were you when I was washing her blood off the tiles?”

“I’m sorry.”

And then the guard’s coming in, and he’s telling them their times up and the next visitation hours are at three. Daniel doesn’t pay the man much attention even as he stands, and looks at his father with something like helplessness.

“I know.”

It's ten minutes later, when they’re outside and the clouds are gathering like an ominous grey shadow and it’s far too dark to be so early, does Daniel say anything. His voice is soft, just a little shaken, and his barriers are already building themselves.

“Thank you.”

Merritt lifts his gaze to look at the showman, and thinks about the last few months. He considers the dark leather-bound book, thinks about a family that would inevitably crumble, a father who's so sorry and a future that was never had. He thinks about Kevin ( _Kev_ ) and law and Harvard, about blood on tiles and car accidents and walls so close in the dark. Thinks about everything he didn’t know and everything he does know, and is suddenly so certain that Daniel needs to know something too.

“You don’t have to do these things alone, Daniel. You can trust us.”

Daniel only tilts his head, and there’s a rare genuine smile on his lips. He nods.

“I know.”

And for once, Merritt is utterly certain about something. They’ll go back and do the show and head out to a pub and celebrate, and Daniel will know. Through the light touches and the smiles and taking the stairs instead of the elevators, he’ll know he was never alone.

Merritt will make sure of it.

 


End file.
